


Cologne

by Error404NotFound



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Age Difference, Akira best wingwoman, Alternate Universe - No Ghouls (Tokyo Ghoul), Back cleavage, Bathroom Sex, But like Kaneki is 19 and Amon 23 so, Cock slut Kaneki Ken, Dancing, Deepthroating, Drunk Blow Jobs, Drunk Sex, Drunken Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Partying, Platonic Amon/Akira, Shironeki | White-haired Kaneki Ken, Slutty Kaneki Ken, seriously Kaneki's stupid cleavege kept distracting me throughout the entire manga
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24529738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Error404NotFound/pseuds/Error404NotFound
Summary: Amon goes to a party at his friend's penthouse, and meets a beautiful boy whose attire makes his head go numb and his pants uncomfortable.
Relationships: Amon Koutarou/Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise
Comments: 10
Kudos: 96





	Cologne

**Author's Note:**

> If Ishida can sexualize Kaneki I can too, thank you very much.  
> Based on [this stupid outfit](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1s1BjJFXXXXa5XFXXq6xXFXXX2/Tokyo-Ghoul-Kaneki-Ken-Costume-battle-suit-Jumpsuit-Costume-Anime-Halloween-cosplay-costumes-for-men-and.jpg_q50.jpg%5D) , and I mean Kaneki's, not the cosplay, except it's like a swimsuit. 
> 
> Formerly named Night Running.

They get to the party, and as soon as Amon allows himself to look over the guests he can see right away, immediately regrets agreeing to come along. The venue is big enough to harbor a whole bunch of young people that, by the looks of it, are having the time of their lives. The music’s loud, the lighting is dim enough for him to see but not to make out too much detail, and there’s a funny smell in the air that is almost surely marihuana. It’s the top floor of a three story building, one of Takizawa’s parents properties, so he doubts there’ll be any complaints from neighbors.

Amon isn’t the kind of guy you’d find at a party every weekend -or at least not while sober, that’s for sure-, but this time Akira, his classmate and best friend, talked him into coming today. “It’s Takizawa’s birthday”, was her main reason, and while Amon thought of buying him a small gift to get rid of the social obligation, Akira had added, reading his mind, “It’s going to be something big, so he won’t have time for us other than for giving us beer and wishing us a fun night.”

So that did it; Amon pictured throwing a quick ‘happy birthday’ Takizawa’s way and then his own trip home. They both knew their friend’s love for wild parties and waking up with barf drying on his shirt, so being the diligent students they were (and with a little of common sense and self-respect), Akira and Amon weren’t exactly looking forward to being a part of it.

He was only considering changing his plan in function of how much booze he could get into his system, preferably without having to interact with other people, so here he is; almost drunk after stopping by Akira’s place so they could both get their hands on Mado-san’s collection of vodka, and survive whatever the hell this thing has in store for them.

Akira pulls him by his wrist, saying something about finding the alcohol before greeting the host, and while Amon can’t seriously think of a better course for action, he has only to lift his gaze to the crowd to find Takizawa, who’s making his way through sweaty bodies to get to them.

“You guys made it!” Cheers his friend, his arms wide for a hug. He drags out his words and looks like he can barely stand on his own, but Amon tries to smile, even if it comes out a little forced. He can’t help to think, _it’s only midnight, for God’s sake_.

Thankfully, Akira steps up then, all smiles.

“Happy birthday, Takizawa! Thanks for having us.”

Amon nods, waiting for his turn for a hug, and when it’s here he mutters his congratulations in his friend’s ear, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol getting to his nostrils. Up close he can see the blush on Takizawa’s cheeks, only confirming his suspicions on his friend’s state. He doesn’t comment on it, though, deciding he’s enough of an adult to know where to stop. Something tells him he really shouldn’t leave it like that, but before he can think it over again, Takizawa sing-songs: “Come, let’s get you puuumpeeeeed!”

Akira’s lips stretch a little bit more, but falls into step behind him and doesn’t say anything.

They elbow their way through drunk and dancing people, the party’s mood somehow doing wonders with Amon’s own one, who starts feeling the bass of the music in his ribs, the heat of the room making him want a cold drink to deal with it, noticing good looking boys and girls. Sometimes it’s funny to remember they’re friends with someone like Takizawa, who knows a _lot_ of people due to his unselective love for parties. And unlimited alcohol supply, thanks to his rich parents or whatever his method to finance it is.

They get to the kitchen, that wouldn’t really be that interesting, were they to ignore the coolers full of golden beer. The delicious breeze that caresses Amon’s face when Akira lifts the lid of one makes him want to sink his head into the ice. The girl gives him two beers, and while she has a mind to suggest Takizawa to stop his consumption for now, Amon goes to look for a way to open them.

“What’re ya talkin’ about? I’m fiiiine” Takizawa slurs, and Akira lifts her eyes to meet Amon’s, like saying ‘can you believe this?’. Yes, yes he can, he says back as he takes a sip from his bottle.

Akira wins the battle, as usual, but Amon doubts the host of the party won’t find someone who’s willing to share a drink with him. He hands her the other beer, and after making Takizawa drink some water, they leave the kitchen.

Now, with a drink in hand, this all seems a little bit more acceptable. Not that he doesn’t like parties, mind you, but he gets a lot more relaxed with a little help.

“Anyways, I’ll- I’ll leave you to it.” Takizawa tells them, having to lean onto them so they can hear it over the music. They both congratulate him once more, but neither insists on him staying, they’re not drunk enough for that. “See ya later.”

He totters away, but as Amon starts to get worried about him, Akira gestures for him to take another sip. Yes, that´s probably the most intelligent choice here, so he obliges.

Well, he kind of finishes his drink in one go, and knows this isn’t a good idea, but he’s already at a place he doesn’t want to be, so fuck it.

“So,” starts the blond after a minute. Amon tries to focus on her voice even over the noise; it’s a good sign that he can still do it without much problem, “Do you want to like, steal the booze and go elsewhere or- get drunk enough to puke?”

Amon sighs, shrugging. He honestly has no idea of what to do, not being uninhibited yet to think of something crazy enough to regret tomorrow. He’s okay like this, he decides, still having power over his own actions. But he needs another beer.

Scanning the room, he sees what looks like a sliding glass door wide open, giving way to a terrace. He gestures towards it.

“Let’s get some fresh air.”

The girl doesn’t seem too thrilled about this, but goes back to the kitchen to fetch him another bottle. Amon reflects on why they’re best friends, and tries not to drink from it when she gets back, so as not to disappoint Akira. He’ll keep a mental note on how many each of them downs, if only to have something to tell her dad if they get to see him later before he leaves for work. It’s only then when he notices that besides a beer for herself, she’s holding onto a bigger bottle. He meets her gaze, asking for an explanation, and she rolls her eyes and holds it high enough for him to see it’s tequila.

“Takizawa’s not gonna miss it.”

Amon can’t really disagree.

They walk towards the terrace, and more than a girl throws a glance their way, and while he can’t tell whether they’re supposed to go Akira’s way or his, he discovers he doesn’t mind the attention. One girl grazes his hand lightly, and it sends a pleasant current up his arm, and when he turns at her he sees a pretty redhead that smiles at him, inviting, but as soon as he moves to say something, a guy with platinum gray hair circles her waist in a protective gesture, pulling her in another direction. The girl looks apologetic, but the smile doesn’t leave her lips as she and her friends walk away, laughing.

Well, that went downhill before even starting. Akira pushes him to move forward, but she’s chuckling because of Amon’s bad luck, he can tell without actually hearing it.

When they get outside, the soft breeze of the night and the moonlight make him feel a lot better, like his mind is a little bit clearer, the loud music falling behind and giving place to the mutter of people having conversations at an appropriate volume. They get closer to the balcony, from where they can see the outline of skyscrapers, the lights of the night life in the city. It’s a pretty view, all this high up. There are people here too, but way less than inside. He notices a couple quietly making out in the corner, but nothing too interesting besides that.

He leans on the railing while facing Akira. She leaves the tequila on the floor, next to her feet.

“Maybe we should mingle,” he suggests, but there isn’t an actual wish in his voice, “Play drinking games and stuff.”

Akira rolls her eyes up -she likes doing this- and drinks from her beer.

“You’re not as used to Takizawa’s parties, so you probably don’t know this,” she says, taking a strand of blond hair out of her face, “but these people love to make each other drink until the police show up.”

Amon makes a face. Suddenly he doesn’t feel like sipping at his beer anytime soon.

“So you shouldn’t get all drinking buddies with them.”

They stay in silence for a while. The conversation the two guys behind Akira are having sounds like it’s about music, pretty innocent, but Amon gets a glimpse of one of them, and can’t help but stare at his ghostly, white hair.

Akira clears her throat like she’s waiting for a response of some sort, so Amon has to bring his attention back to her, even if his eyes try to evade the other guy’s black undercut to find the white-haired boy’s face. He fails, so averts his gaze to Akira’s, who’s already looking at him.

He feels himself blush. “Sorry, what was that?”

She grunts with annoyance, but takes her beer to her lips again. When she’s done, she asks, “You already drunk?”

He shakes his head, but the movement makes him slightly dizzy. He doesn’t mention this.

“I was wondering when you’ll ditch me to go dance,” he smiles, seeing her purse her lips into a line.

She’s done this a couple of times, but he’s never held it against her. Amon knows she likes dancing more than getting straight wasted, and while he doesn’t mind dancing himself, he has to be way more drunk than this to make it happen.

She says something about not doing it this time, but Amon doesn’t believe her for a second. He doesn’t really mind, since every time she does, he finds something else to dwell his attention onto.

“Besides,” he keeps on, and now her eyes are heavily lidded and she’s pouting. Maybe they shouldn’t have drunk vodka before coming, “Aren’t you the one who used to find people to take home with you?”

Upon hearing this, Amon coughs embarrassedly into his hand. Yeah well, that was when they were still starting college, and most of those choices were taken while having a single functioning brain cell. A side effect of christian school, probably. Nevertheless, he likes to think he’s the kind of guy he is now _because_ of all that. Like, after doing those things when young, now he couldn’t say he had this urge to go crazy unprompted. He was cool-headed now, and wouldn’t get himself into the trouble he used to.

Then, the conversation behind her seems to come to a close, because black-haired guy starts for the door, giving Amon the chance to get another look at the boy he was talking to.

The boy with white hair has a beautiful face, a long-sleeved tight black shirt and dark grey jeans. He’s slim, like a doll, and while there are definitely muscles behind the fabric Amon can’t help but to think how small he looks compared to himself. The whole vibe he gives off, even when he’s only drinking from his red cup, puts him in a trance. The shirt is a turtleneck, and while it’s not particularly hot tonight, he wonders how the boy isn’t sweating in that. Then, the boy leans on the veranda, letting Amon see with widened eyes the answer to his own questioning.

A bad choice indeed, because a single look over has him choking on the beer, and then he has Akira giving him a concerned glance, but not doing more than asking him if he’s okay.

“Let’s talk about something else,” he begs while Akira chuckles, and even if they’re talking about different things, he buys himself some time by sipping for the first time at his second beer. Akira seems pensive herself, but after a while her eyes find his, a mischievous glint to them. Amon doesn’t like it one bit.

“Well then,” she says, lifting her bottle, “never have I ever lusted after my best friend.”

Amon quirks an eyebrow, because he didn’t know Akira liked drinking games, and sees her pleased expression after a moment passes. He vows to keep his eyes on Akira, even if he has a hard time doing so.

“What’s that about?” he snorts, nervous and feeling like he’d like to try his hand at the tequila on the floor.

She shrugs. “I heard that somewhere and always thought of asking about it.”

Amon sighs, but doesn’t comment on it. It’s not the first time someone says something about them being together or having a thing for each other. At this point them both ignore this kind of stuff, so he isn’t sure as to why she brought it up.

“Besides,” Akira adds, smirking, “Needed an easy question to start off. Your turn.”

He can’t help but to eye her suspiciously. He figures he could indulge his friend for now, even if were he completely sober, he would question her right away. He hums, his mind in a completely different place.

“I don’t know, never have I ever- cheated in a test?”

Akira drinks immediately, and had Amon been more awake, he’d swear the bottle was against her lips before he even had a chance to finish speaking. He makes a face nonetheless.

“Akira-“

“My turn. Never have I ever thought another guy’s hot.”

At this, Amon has to laugh. What kind of game is this? Is it about asking questions they already know the answer to? He takes a sip as Akira does, and the liquid makes this a little more bearable. He risks a glance towards the white-haired boy, and when he sees he’s still there, moonlight catching on his locks, his breath goes away for a second. It has nothing to do with the cleavage at his back, where he can see from his lower back to where his shoulder blades begin. The skin there looks as inviting as the curve of his ass, embraced by the tight jeans.

His throat feels suddenly dry, so he has to drink a bit more to appease the itching.

“Never have I ever googled on my friend’s phone whether or not I was pregnant.”

Now is time for Akira to choke on her own spit, but she does so while laughing, so Amon doesn’t start running. There’s a goofy smile on his lips too, because the memory is so stupid and it’s one of the golden moments he’s shared with her.

“That was one time” Akira says, like that’s enough to defend herself, “And I was really hungover, it doesn’t count.”

Amon shakes his head, his stomach hurting with laughter.

“You don’t even remember it happening, I had to tell you later!”

The girl pushes him playfully, but she’s not as strong as she’d be sober, so she more like stumbles in the attempt, rather than actually getting it right. Amon circles her small frame with an arm and presses her against his chest. They both laugh until he feels tearing up, and he suddenly feels glad he came today, even if only for this. It might be the alcohol talking, though.

It’s when he lifts his eyes that a pair of grey ones find his own from over Akira’s shoulder. For the split of a second, the white-haired boy is definitely looking at him, a gentle smile curving his lips, and at the next, he redirects his attention elsewhere to the city below.

Amon clears his throat, trying to establish some distance between Akira and him, but when he looks down at her, she’s already judging him. There’s a knowing glint to her eyes he decides he doesn’t like, but before he can say something to defend himself, she quietly pushes herself off his arms and takes the tequila bottle, all but forgotten on the ground. She shoves it into his chest.

“Don’t fuck it up” she mutters, so just Amon can hear.

Then, turns on her heels and makes for the glass door, from where he can see people dancing inside. She stops there and looks straight to the white-haired guy, who seems too engrossed in his own thoughts to notice Amon panicking from his place. Akira gives him an expression that conveys nothing more than approval, and then disappears among the crowd.

It’s only when she’s gone that he allows himself to breathe again. Of course, everyone in the terrace is minding their own business, so he’s really thankful that no one was paying attention to that. He realizes he’s still facing the white-haired boy, so turns quickly to the view at his right, pretending to be enraptured by it but still holding awkwardly onto both the tequila bottle and his beer.

Well, this was clearly Akira’s plan; he truthfully believes this, even if he has no proof right now, he knows this for sure. His head feels too light to put two and two together, but that shady aura Akira had for a while leaves him with no doubt about this.

Anyway, on more pressing matters, he’s alone now, just like the hot white-haired guy at his left, with a whole bottle of tequila. This should be easy for someone like Amon, who used to approach attractive people he wanted to take them home and go for it, discover if the interest was mutual or not, and even when it wasn’t, fueled by alcohol as he was, it never stopped him from finding new targets. Of course, that was young Amon, not his actual self, so this pressure in his lower belly whenever he imagined his hands running down this stranger’s uncovered back, made him wonder whether he’d be able to form any coherent sentences while trying to talk to him.

The beers and the vodka were now kicking in, so he thought he either did it now, or miss the opportunity altogether.

“Hey.”

Crap, that’s his voice. And he’s suddenly beside the boy, his grey eyes going up to meet his own for the second time today. The boy smiles at him, the expression on his face can only be described as angelical.

_Okay, this isn’t good._

“Hey,” he says back, and straightens himself to reveal a height that reaches Amon’s nose. This fact shouldn’t make his chest feel tight, but it does. “How are you liking the party?”

Amon easily returns his smile. Who would’ve thought someone so ethereal looking would be so nice? He shrugs, not really having an answer for that. He’s been out here the whole time, so he wouldn’t know about the general status of the party. He opts for being sincere.

“I can tell you how I’m liking the terrace.”

This makes the boy chuckle, a sound too sweet for someone wearing what he’s wearing. He notices there are patches of pale skin on his shoulders as well. Who sells these clothes?

“Yeah, the same goes for me,” he lifts his red cup. “Not in the mood for noisy people yet.”

Only then Amon realizes he’s still holding the tequila bottle, so he leaves it on the floor again. The boy’s grey eyes don’t leave him, so he feels the need to fill in the silence with something. He extends his hand, even if he comes across as too formal.

“Kotaro Amon.”

The other boy shakes his hand, as if it’s natural to greet people like that at parties. The smile on his face never stops being polite, so that’s a win, Amon tells himself, that he isn’t making a fool out of himself yet.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Ken Kaneki.”

Amon swallows, lets go of his hand and looks for something else to say. It doesn’t take him long to remember why they are both here, and he thanks the alcohol in his system for that.

“Didn’t know Takizawa had friends who didn’t like him. He’s real noisy.”

Kaneki exhales through his nose with amusement, but the smile is still there. He leans on the veranda again, resting his weight on one elbow while facing Amon. Amon doesn’t notice when he licks his own lips.

_Tiny waist._

“Well, you’re out here, too” Kaneki points out, “so that makes two of us now.”

Amon lets out a quiet laugh. He then thinks of the black-haired guy that was with Kaneki before, so he asks, trying to keep his voice like he doesn’t really care: “You here alone?”

Kaneki nods, and his mouth is twisted into a crooked smile, like he knows where Amon’s going with this. This encourages Amon to take a step closer, and since the other boy doesn’t relent, Amon stays there.

“Thought you had company before.”

“You mean Urie?” Kaneki asks, and since this doesn’t get a reaction out of Amon, he gets the man doesn’t know who he’s talking about. He shakes his head. “Not really, I already know too many people here. Seido-kun is always throwing parties with the same guests.”

If you get this much booze for free, it makes sense to stick to the group, he figures. Amon makes a face at the mention of his friend’s first name.

“You go to Rikkyo?”

Kaneki downs his cup, and leaves it by his feet before answering.

“Kamii,” he corrects, and understanding Amon’s confusion, he adds, “He’s a regular at a friend’s café, so I met him there.”

Upon hearing this, Amon feels a little bit more at ease. He allows himself to give Kaneki a playful smile of his own, and he might or might have not seen a different glint to Kaneki’s eyes, but he wouldn’t trust his sight right now.

“You go to Kamii? But I thought you were all party animals!”

The white-haired laughs more openly this time, while shaking his head. Amon likes this sound.

“That’s the image every other school has of us, yes. Not my fault, though.”

If he recalls correctly, Suzuya was the one to tell him that first, then confirmed by Akira and Takizawa. He wonders if most people here go to Kamii, if that’s why Kaneki says he knows a lot of them.

“But you go there,” Amon says, like that wins against anything that Kaneki could say, but Kaneki tilts his head like he’s still willing to listen, even if just to please him. “That means there’s some of that spirit in you, too.”

Kaneki looks like he wants to suppress the smile that’s already been on his face the whole time, but having a hard time doing it.

“I barely drink!”

“That’s bullshit.”

Amon tries to find his eyes, and Kaneki plays dumb, but it only results in the taller man getting a little closer. In turn, Kaneki changes the subject.

“You go to law school, right?”

The taller man looks at him, puzzled. Is it that obvious? Kaneki is the one to lick his lips now, but it’s more part of his charade of trying not to smile at his expense than anything else.

“Like Seido-kun.”

Amon snorts. Of course.

“We’re classmates, actually.” He responds easily, maybe a little disappointed he didn’t get to keep teasing Kaneki. _For now_ , he tries to remind himself. “What’s your major?”

The other boy shrugs with a playful demeanor.

“Take a guess?”

Amon gives him a look over, and it is _delicious_ how he can do it now with an excuse at hand.

“Fashion design meets Edgar Allan Poe.”

Kaneki brings his fist to his mouth in a last failed attempt to cover it, but the laugh gives him away.

“Japanese literature.”

Amon’s not one to go by stereotypes, but the boy before him does look like an intellectual. Maybe an emo aesthetics loving one, but intelligent nonetheless. His grey eyes are too smart for Amon’s sake, and the way he speaks, like words are there at his disposition and he can use them as he pleases, like he doesn’t have to think them beforehand, it all tells Amon this boy has a better understanding of words than he does. Or maybe that’s because he’s seriously drunk right now and can barely talk without biting his own tongue.

“Almost.”

Kanenki reaches for a ghostly lock and puts it behind his ear, but it’s short enough to lose free almost immediately. Amon notices his nails painted in black polish, and discovers a funny sensation at the pit of his belly because of it.

“You seemed busy too, earlier,” Kaneki comments then, faking innocence even when Amon doesn’t follow right away. He clarifies, “With the blond pretty lady.”

This, Amon finds terribly embarrassing. Does this mean he heard Akira’s stupid questions? Or even worse, saw them clinging to each other like teenagers while laughing their asses off? He feels his face heat, and he knows it’s got nothing to do with the alcohol.

Kaneki seems to be waiting for an answer, so he clears his throat and averts his gaze when he finally speaks again.

“Akira’s my best friend. Her hobbies include both taunting and humiliating me.”

“You seemed close.” This time, Kaneki’s hand reaches for the taller man’s beer, their fingers grazing for half a second, and he holds Amon’s gaze even after he lets go of it. “But I’m glad.”

As Kaneki takes the drink to his lips, turning to the city below, Amon feels like he’s having trouble finding his voice. The other boy’s Adam’s apple proves to be a very effective distraction, the long neck hugged by the black fabric. He wonders if the skin there would bloom red under his teeth.

This kind of thoughts won’t get him anywhere, he tells himself, but a stupid idea occurs to him: maybe if he lets them out, they won’t keep accumulating below his waistline.

“I like your shirt,” he hears himself say.

Apparently, this piques Kaneki’s attention, because his eyes return to Amon’s. He rests his head on his palm and lifts a pale eyebrow, but a different smile graces his lips.

“Thanks, I like your legs.”

Amon feels that all the way down his back, like a cool caress. Keneki doesn’t look like he cares much for the effect of his words, because he returns Amon his beer. Their fingers touch for a little longer than before, and then Amon doesn’t let the other boy avert his gaze when he drinks from the bottle. He swallows before speaking again, just so he can seem a little more put together than he really is.

“You wear that to school?” his voice comes a bit strained, but he covers it putting up his best smile. “I think I might want one myself.”

Kaneki pouts, and an unprecedented surge to bite his plump cheeks makes Amon lean even closer yet, so the white-haired guy has to tilt his head back just enough to keep looking at him.

From his angle, Amon feels like he could nuzzle the way up his neck and Kaneki would let him. He kinda wants to try it.

“This only is my standard outfit for parties, Amon-san. It’s not like I go like this everywhere.” At this distance, Kaneki’s voice is barely louder than a whisper when he asks suddenly, “Do you dance?”

“Yes.”

The answer is out of his mouth before he can even think about it, and Kaneki’s expression is more than worth it. He takes Amon’s hand with his free one, his skin is soft and warm as he pulls him towards the door, the sudden movement making Amon stumble.

Inside, it still smells like pot and sweat, and the music is as loud as before, making Amon’s head throb. Kaneki finds a trash bin, where he disposes of his empty cup, so Amon downs his drink under his grey gaze, and does the same with the bottle. They make their way through the venue elbowing drunk people, until Kaneki stops and turns at him, half lidded eyes and a cute smile that can’t augur anything good.

The music changes to a song Amon is actually familiar with, so he lets the dizziness of his head dictate his movements, hands reaching for Kaneki’s, who closes his eyes and moves to the rhythm with ease. Something in Amon tells him they’re too far from each other, and feeling suddenly brave, makes Kaneki turn on his heel and poses his hands on his small ( _oh, so damn small he could break it if he wanted_ ) waist.

Kaneki doesn’t resist and presses himself to Amon’s front, swaying hips distracting the taller man a little too much from the task at hand.

Further away, even with poor lighting and his own blurry vision, Amon gets a glimpse of the redhead from earlier among the dancing crowd. She seems to be having a blast, jumping around a heavily tattooed guy and the man with silver hair dancing with all his might. He’s got a huge smile on his face, and Amon could bet on him being wasted. The sight half-reminds him of the blond girl he was supposed to be with all night, but even by trying his best to scan the crowd, he can’t spot Akira. There are people around them dancing, drinking and way too engrossed into their own partners and their mouths to look up and let Amon see their faces.

Suddenly, a hand snakes its way up his neck and stops at his nape, where he can feel the gentle scrape of nails. Apparently, he can’t fool Kaneki about his lack of attention, because the white-haired boy presses himself even tighter to Amon’s chest, and now there’s a soft butt that, if Amon weren’t smarter, would think it’s rubbing by accident against his growing erection. He groans, and Kaneki probably hears it, as his ear is just next to Amon’s mouth, and his hips start rolling slowly, making it impossible for Amon to think about, well, literally anything else.

His fingers close on Kaneki’s hip bones a little tighter, in part so he can keep him in place while his own hips seek more contact; he licks his lower lip, his thumb rubbing circles on naked skin. He wants to sneak his whole hand inside Kaneki’s stupid shirt, caress his belly and squeeze his chest, but the pressure building up down his pelvis and the loud-ass music making his ribs pound, force him to keep his attention only in a single place.

Then, too early for Amon’s liking, Kaneki is facing him again, his arms feeling their way up Amon’s torso until his fingers interlace behind his head. His eyes look up intently at him, and Amon’s hands go down and linger just above the sweet curve of his ass. Amon doesn’t know if the constant throb between them is due to the music or his own crazy heartbeat, but he can clearly feel Kaneki’s own arousal grazing his every time they sway their hips together.

He wants to lean and bite that god damned grin off his lips, to grab a handful of his butt, to press Kaneki to the corner of the room and fuck him up the wall, with all these people watching.

“What’re you thinking about?” the boy asks him, leaning into the curve of his neck, so he can be heard over the music.

The brush of his warm breath over Amon’s clavicles feels like a caress, soft and hot. It sends a shiver down his spine, and suddenly all he can answer with is something whispered by the other boy’s ear.

“You don’t wanna know.”

Amon feels Kaneki tremble slightly against him, his hips moving under his fingers, and then his grey eyes are looking up at him, a naughty shine to them. The closeness gives Amon the push he needs to forget about anything else, makes him drunk with adrenaline, and he finally, _finally_ catches Kaneki’s mouth in his.

Kaneki’s lips let out a sound that doesn’t make it to Amon’s brain, and stands on his toes to kiss back. Kaneki’s mouth is soft, wet and tastes like alcohol. Amon’s tongue finds its way inside his hot mouth, it’s delicious, and it gives Amon something he didn’t know he needed until now; there are fingers pulling at the hairs of his nape, so he bites the other boy’s lower lip, relishing in the way Kaneki can’t seem to be close enough to him when they are pressed together from head to toe. Amon guides his hands lower until he gets a feeling of Kaneki’s plump ass and squeezes _hard,_ almost slightly lifting Kaneki in the process. This time, he can clearly hear Kaneki crying out.

He takes the chance to put some distance between them, and even when Kaneki chases his lips, he manages to distract him by lettering his jaw and neck with light kisses. Kaneki tilts his head to give him more access, so he doesn’t waste time and teases his right earlobe between his teeth. One of Kaneki’s hands goes to rest on his bicep, tightening his hold a little in an attempt to catch his attention. Amon growls in frustration, this stupid turtleneck doesn’t give him room to bite and mark Kaneki’s inmaculate skin as much as he’d like.

Kaneki kisses him on the lips again, and this does manage to drift his attention. The boy takes his other hand from his hair to his chest, where he pushes a little. Amon opens his eyes -that he apparently closed at some point- and meets Kaneki’s heated gaze. There’s a darker hue coloring his cheeks, but under the lighting conditions he can’t really know if it’s a blush. He wants to see what color it actually is, and if possible, spread it all over his body.

“Let’s take this elsewhere, shall we?” Kaneki suggests, a little out of breath but smiling, nonetheless.

Amon doesn’t find his voice immediately, so he only nods. The movement makes his head giddy. Kaneki’s smile widens more, if possible, and takes Amon’s hand in his to drag him behind him once more. Amon can’t remember the last time he did this, but something -his raging boner, probably- tells him it’s been way too long. What he can tell is that last time it was a girl he did it with, so it being a guy now makes it even better.

They pass by a lot of people either dancing or making out, so no one seems to pay attention to them. Amon vaguely thinks this is something he’d be worried about if he weren’t this drunk and horny, but Kaneki’s hand is warm and his fucking cleavage, that God bless it, gives Amon an almost full view of his beautiful back and slender waist as he makes his way among the crowd.

Amon wants to jerk off to that cleavage and cum on it.

Kaneki stops before a closed door that has every vibe to it of leading to the bathroom of the penthouse, and Amon feels his head hotter because of it. Kaneki knocks twice, and after receiving no answer, opens it. Amon goes in after him, a clean light being turned on by Kaneki. It’s not a big room, but the toilet is there, in front of a tiny sink with a mirror. Doesn’t look like the main bathroom, but it’ll do. There’s an odd smell in the air, but before Amon can dwell on it, as soon as the door closes, the other boy is onto him, his mouth on his, cornering him against the door.

This time around, Amon doesn’t let his eyes close, and can clearly see that Kaneki doesn’t either. He brings a hand down to Kaneki’s ass and the other up to cradle the side of his face, bites onto his lips to make way for his tongue. Kaneki’s mouth opens with a moan that goes directly to Amon’s groin, and Amon sticks in his wet tongue as deep as he can, not losing sight of Kaneki’s clouded eyes as he goes over every nook and cranny of the boy’s mouth. It’s sloppy and messy and Amon can’t get enough of it.

Soon they have to part for air so they do, and even if there’s only an inch between them, Amon wants to erase that distance. Kaneki swallows and licks his lips -his plump, red lips-.

“I want to suck your dick.”

 _Please, by all means_ , Amon wants to say, _do go ahead,_ but for the second time tonight, he can only nod, and when he does, Kaneki leans up to give him a quick kiss and nibble at his lower lip. He then drops to his knees on the dirty tiled floor, and if Amon says he won’t have this picture tattooed on his eyelids every time he goes to bed, he’s lying. Kaneki looks up at him, that sweet, dangerous grin twisting his lips, makes Amon audibly gulp, thinking he’d had to know how Kaneki would look on his knees.

The boy slowly drags his hands from Amon’s own knees to his thighs, the warmth of his hands going through the fabric, and stops there, squeezing. He emits an appreciative noise, feeling up the muscle. His face comes closer, his right cheek resting just below his belt, where leg and crotch meet. He looks up at Amon from under white eyelashes, the sight building even more pressure in his pants, where his erection is starting to hurt.

“I really like your legs, Amon-san” he says, his voice whispered but perfectly audible in the silence of the room. His hands go up and down once more, gently but firmly.

Amon wants to say something in return, but doesn’t have the time to think of anything. Kaneki reaches for his belt, the clicking sound familiar yet thrilling, and has no problems undoing the zipper. He lowers the pants enough to get a sight of Amon’s grey boxers, their front tented up and a damp spot tainting the fabric. Kaneki draws his face near again, but this time mouths at the bulge, his breath ghosting over it, unbearably hot for Amon, who closes his hands in fists, resisting the itching for either pushing Kaneki or bringing him closer.

Kaneki catches on to his reaction, so he takes Amon’s cock out of his underwear, earning a sigh of relief from him. He holds it with slender fingers painted in black, strokes it once, twice, slowly, almost experimentally, paying attention to how Amon’s breath catches on his throat. Kaneki takes a white lock out of his face with his free hand, smile in place. His eyes drift from Amon to his dick once.

“You’re so big,” he comments, almost to himself, then he closes his lips around the head, wet heat making Amon let out a growl from the depths of his chest. He quickly covers his mouth with a hand, the other one goes straight to bury into Kaneki’s hair.

The boy’s eyes don’t leave his even when he sinks Amon’s cock deeper into his mouth, the heat embracing Amon’s every sense. The taller man can feel the exact point in which his tip is touching the back of Kaneki’s throat, even if it lasts only a second. Kaneki’s head goes up slowly, leaving a trail of saliva that cools off in contact with the air, and Amon sinks his teeth into his lower lip. Kaneki gives him a small laugh, but doesn’t let him breath for much; he traces with this tongue the side of Amon’s dick, trailing the vein all the way to the tip.

“Kane-“ Amon tries, but his voice gets lost in the way from his chest to his mouth.

This makes Kaneki give him a crooked smile, a devilish glint to his eyes. He lets him rest by pressing Amon’s cock to his warm cheek, where the pink blush is visible now.

The music of the party sounds muffled behind his back, where he remembers the door is still unlocked. He feels alarm flood his body for the briefest of moments, so it helps to clear his head a little. Amon tells himself he can’t let this kid do everything, even though he looks like he really knows what he’s doing and loves putting on a show.

Taking a deep breath, he sneaks his hand behind his back to lock the door, then lowers it to get a hold of his cock, taking Kaneki by surprise.

Damn this boy.

He faintly slaps Kaneki’s cheek with his dick, and his eyes go wide, like he wasn’t expecting that. Amon smears the tip against his pretty lips, seeing them getting shiny with precum.

“Now,” he says, somehow evenly, feeling Kaneki’s unwavering attention on him. He knows by experience this is how people like Kaneki want to be handled. He’s in control now. “You’re gonna open that mouth of yours and show me it has a better use than that.”

He doesn’t miss Kaneki’s Adam’s apple going up and down. He’s almost relieved he got it right, but doesn’t let himself show this. Kaneki’s smile makes its attempt at returning, but it’s tight and not as confident. He tilts his head a little, chin up.

“Okay, but I think you should know I don’t swallow.”

Amon yanks his hair back, earning a moan that could be either of complaint or pleasure, but Amon doesn’t hesitate.

“You’ll swallow what I give you to swallow.”

Kaneki shivers at this, and Amon doesn’t give him time to think it over; forces the boy’s head into his crotch, and Kaneki complies immediately. Amon curses under his breath, feeling his hips’ need to buckle up, bury his length into Kaneki’s willing mouth. Something comes over him, something dangerous and ugly, fueled by Kaneki’s pink lips stretched around his cock and the stray locks that stick to his sweaty forehead. Not giving it a second thought, he shoves his dick into his mouth with a rough movement and thrusts deep into the heat once, twice, Kaneki’s eyes tearing up with the effort. He hears himself produce a guttural sound, and keeps the boy’s head in place so he can fuck his mouth ruthlessly.

The white-haired boy moans around the shaft, and it sounds like he’s crying, his hands hold onto Amon’s thighs once again, but this time so he doesn’t lose balance, so his fingers dig into Amon’s burning flesh. His eyes seem glossy, never leaving his, even as his nose sinks into his pubes, to have half a second to breathe before Amon dives in again. They look unfocused and glassy, like Kaneki isn’t even entirely here, but even if Amon can’t make it out from this angle since Kaneki’s head is in the way, he thinks he catches a glimpse of a bulge in the front of his jeans.

He lets himself close his eyes momentarily, savor the noises Kaneki makes while choking on his cock, the messy, sloppy sounds of it burying itself into his throat and the gasps for air of the boy before it goes back right in. It’s amazing how Kaneki keeps up, because Amon hasn’t heard his gag reflex yet, or to give any signs of wanting to stop.

With his breath hitching and a familiar pressure tightening his balls, Amon lowers his gaze to the boy on the floor, seeing spit trailing down his chin, his lips impossibly red, and decides he’s had enough of this. He doesn’t want to come deep into Kaneki’s mouth -he does, he really does- when he can do it up his chubby ass.

Amon stops his thrusts suddenly by shoving his dick one last time all the way back Kaneki’s throat, in an attempt to take him by surprise, but when he stays there, keeping Kaneki’s head in place, the boy’s long, pleasured moan around his length sends vibrations up his whole body, and he nearly comes. It takes all his self-control not to, and observes how Kaneki takes the base of his cock in a hand and draws his head back, hollowing his cheeks, dragging his lips over it one last time, and making Amon fucking _whine_ in want.

Once his mouth is free, Kaneki wipes his chin with a black sleeve. His cheeks are blushed bright red, his hair is a mess, and when he looks back up at Amon, he massages his jaw with that stupid smirk at his ruined lips again.

He lost, Amon knows it right away when he looks into those eyes. He’d probably try to apologize in other circumstances, but now he can only think of making Kaneki cry, for real this time. He wonders if the boy can speak after his throat got rawed like that, and finds a twisted part of himself would feel proud if that weren't the case.

He offers a hand, and Kaneki takes it for support. He doesn’t wait for Amon to take the lead again, because he yanks him in by his shirt and kisses him, hard. Amon’s own taste floods his mouth, Kaneki’s expert tongue with it, and can hear his pulse in his temples, his heart hammering against his ribs. He goes for the neck, where he had forgotten about that stupid turtleneck, and lets out a frustrated snarl. Kaneki chuckles half-heartedly, bringing their lips together again, then biting his way down his neck, but Amon pushes him until the edge of the sink is against his back, the cold bite to it startling him. It’s Amon’s turn to smile at that, but at a particularly hard bite on the joint of his shoulder and neck, he winces in pain. It sounds like he liked it, though, so he doesn’t know anymore.

He captures Kaneki’s jaw between his fingers, meets his eyes for a second and kisses him one last time before making him turn so he faces the mirror. He makes him bend over, and now Amon has a beautiful view of his almost naked back and his ass up in the air. He presses his wet erection against it, holding his stupid tiny, sexy as hell waist with both hands.

Kaneki’s grey eyes find him in the mirror, that is as dirty as the floor, and catches him licking his lips in anticipation.

It’s embarrassing to admit, but Amon’s hands shake in excitement when he reaches down Kaneki’s pants, undoing his belt, buttons next. That’s when he realizes he’s wearing a fucking bodysuit.

And has no underwear.

Before he has any chance to reflect on the implications of this, his hands seem to have a mind of their own; they roam on smooth, sweaty skin under the fabric, feeling Kaneki’s breathing catch, toned muscles twitching and tensing under his fingers. They go up, slowly, then down and then up again, they find nipples, pinch them, go south until they reach white ass cheeks, caress them in awe, and then, one hand fixes on bony hips and the other smacks a cheek loudly. Kaneki gasps, but keeps his mouth firmly shut.

Amon spits on his free hand, still warm from the spank, and pushes away the black fabric covering Kaneki’s entrance, looking for it with his wet index. Kaneki grunts in discomfort, but Amon tightens his grip on his hips, stretching out the rim of muscle, the resistance of it when he adds another finger. He draws them in, out, impatiently scissors them, noticing how Kaneki starts bucking up, trying to follow the pace. He keeps him in place, perfectly aware his hold is stronger than needed.

Kaneki whines when he withdraws his fingers, exasperated.

“Hurry up” he pleads, voice hoarse, winging his ass like Amon could ever forget about it when he’s got it right in front of him.

A fleeting thought tells him fucking Kaneki without a condom would feel blissful, the best experience possible, so he hesitates for a second when he gets a hold of one in his back pocket, but the voice of reason makes its appearance, and the option vanishes from his mind. He snarls at his own sense of decency, but rolls it down his length all the same.

Sighing, he lines up his dick with Kaneki’s pink hole and sinks in slowly, taking his time so as to not hurt the other boy. It doesn’t take him long to bury himself entirely, relishing in the way Kaneki’s ass is pressed against his pubis.

He stays there for a moment, waiting for Kaneki to give him permission to move, even when every cell in his body screams for him to begin thrusting into the delicious heat. Kaneki’s head hangs limply, and Amon can’t see his face in the mirror because of ghostly bangs, but a twitch of his lower body is everything he needs to start moving. The movement of his hips starts off slow, as Amon tries his best to keep it together as long as possible, but soon the pressure, the tightness of Kaneki’s hole makes him go faster.

The white-haired boy’s body _sings_ at this; Amon can tell he’s starting to lose control, because he’s holding onto the sink like his life depends on it, knuckles white, black painted nails contrasting against the porcelain and shaking legs, his back curving into an impossible angle. He does what he can to keep on to Amon’s rhythm, he wails as skin smacks skin, Amon’s grip on his hips getting strong enough to bruise. He _wants_ to taint with purple the perfect milky skin, to mark Kaneki somehow, to remind him Amon was there, inside him, and that it felt amazing, even if his back is breaking and his ass is sore and abused. His mouth waters at seeing his cock disappearing between Kaneki’s ass cheeks, repeatedly in and out. He groans the boy’s name, and Kaneki mutters out a strained curse that only makes Amon bit on his lower lip and go as deep as he can in a violent thrust, which forces a cry out of Kaneki’s mouth.

Now that Amon has found Kaneki’s prostate, he makes his only to mission to hit at as many times as possible, each time he drives in, he doesn’t let him catch a break. Because of it his pace rapidly becomes erratic. He feels his knees yielding little by little because of the effort, that his body weights twice as much, that his muscles hurt.

He reaches for Kaneki’s own neglected dick under the bodysuit, bumps it in time with his relentless thrusts, eliciting a strangled moan from Kaneki, who places a hand on top of his on his hip, holding onto it for dear life. Amon vaguely regrets not taking him home, take his time with him as much as he’d like, but Kaneki’s needy voice between pants doesn’t let him dwell on that thought for much.

“P-please- don’t stop.”

Amon’s other hand goes to the rim of the sink to support his weight, next to Kaneki’s, trapping his slender body between it and his chest, makes him straighten himself and catch his eyes on the mirror. He sounds- he looks like he’s crying, Amon’s dick shoving in and out of his hole faster now, short movements that drive them both over the edge. 

Kaneki comes in a silent moan, screwing his eyes shut, and Amon fucks him through his orgasm, keeps him in place as he reaches his own climax, and when he does, he really, really whishes he weren’t wearing a condom.

He lets himself lean in, rest his forehead on Kaneki’s shoulder as he tries to regain some air. Kaneki’s breathing is as messed up as his, he can feel it though the boy’s back. He also feels the amused snort.

He wants to ask what’s up, but his suddenly not-so-drunk mind has the decency of reminding him he’s still balls deep inside Kaneki. It’s his time to curse under his breath and pull out, discarding the condom into the trash bin next to the toilet.

Kaneki doesn’t waste time and puts himself back into his pants, and Amon takes the hint and does the same. Then Kaneki turns around, satisfied smirk on his lips and the hair of someone who just got fucked his brains out. Amon swallows, completely aware of the nearly non-existent distance between them.

Kaneki reaches out to fix Amon’s locks, who, had he had the necessary amounts of braincells to check himself out in the mirror, would’ve noticed this had to be done. Kaneki’s gray eyes smile up at him, almost fondly. Amon suddenly remembers where they are -in the fucking _bathroom_ , at a fucking party, _Takizawa_ ’s birthday party-, and he starts panicking as he climbs down of his high.

He’s totally _not_ drunk right now, holy shit.

Kaneki seems to find his face funny, because his smirk blends into something more amused than naughty. He lowers his hand to cup the side of Amon’s face, the palm soft and warm against his dropping temperature.

“I-“

Kaneki doesn’t let him embarrass himself any further, because he leans up and gives him a quick, chaste kiss. Amon reacts late and can only blink at him owlishly, like a retarded.

“Ask Seido-kun for my number,” he says.

And with that, he makes for the door. Amon can’t move from his place, so he only watches as his stupid heart-shaped ass disappears through the door, where as soon as he’s gone, he can see people outside, all frowning disapprovingly at him.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Yes, the tequila bottle was abandoned.  
> 2\. Urie saw them on their way to the bathroom and got angry he couldn't think of a better conversation topic than music.  
> 3\. Amon did get Kaneki's number.  
> 4\. Rikkyo university is supposed to be the one Kamii is based of, idk it doesn't matter.  
> 5\. Title from the song by Pentatonix, bc it dropped a few days ago and holy shit.  
>  Twitter is @Alasuchan  
> Thanks for reading!


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